Chapter 4: A Method to the Madness
Victoria felt herself falling. She could hear the shattering of the glass beakers and test tubes under her. She could feel the shards thrusting into her back and spine. Then, nothing, all was black.
It felt like she was floating. All around, she could hear echoes of the Joker's voice. No, not the Joker, it was Jack. In the moment before her fingers slipped, she could see him, the real Jack. His face was no longer a clown, scarred and white, but normal. As if his face was always grinning and his eyes blood-shot.
Bruce, he let her fall, but there was no Bruce Wayne anymore, just Batman. All of the feelings, the love she had for him, were gone. Bruce Wayne was now just a familiar face and Batman, an enemy.
"No!" she yelled clutching her mind as if to stop the madness.
The floating spell broken, Victoria plummeted. The faces of the Joker laughing and Batman, with his white-eyed stare flashed by her eyes. A mirror appeared in front of her as the falling slowed and stopped altogether.
Victoria took a step toward it. In the mirror was a woman with jet-black, long hair, ivory skin and long, black nails. Sunken cheeks revealed high cheekbones and wisps of dark shadows gave a beautiful, undead look to indigo eyes. A graceful nose rested above a pair of deep, blood red lips.
Victoria was so close that her breath fogged the glass. Her eyes were set on the woman's. Instinctively, she placed a hand on the mirror. The woman in the mirror mimicked her.
Victoria's breath caught in her throat. Her hand was exactly like the woman's. She tried to pull away but her hand was stuck fast. Victoria looked at the woman in horror.
The woman returned Victoria's shock with an evil grin. Her smile revealed two long canines as she began to laugh behind the glass.
"You!" Victoria gasped, mortified.
The woman ceased her laughing and glared at Victoria. The insane glint of a hunter about to kill its prey grew in her dark eyes.
Suddenly, the woman raised her fist and brought them crashing down onto the mirror, showering Victoria in a shower of fragments.
Victoria Star sat bolt upright in her hospital bed. At first her indigo eyes were blank and wide, but slowly the shock wore off and she glanced at her surroundings. A wicked smile began to grow across blood red lips to show two long fangs.
With cat-like grace, she climbed over the foot of the bed, letting the IV's and monitors tear off her arms and chest. Moving quickly to the wardrobe closet across the room, she ripped off the hospital gown and tossed it to the tile floor. Victoria then raced through the forgotten clothes and pulled out an over-sized sweater and a small pair of blue jeans with a triumphant smirk.
A low snore came from behind Victoria. She spun, ready to fight, only to find a handsome man asleep in the chair next to her bed. Inching closer, Victoria looked at the familiar face of Bruce Wayne. Inspecting the rest of her fiancé's appearance, she noted a set of keys protruding from his pocket.
Victoria did not give a second though about stealing the keys out of Bruce's pocket. She twirled the set around her index finder and strutted over to the window with a newfound confidence. She was never fond of rich socialites anyway.
A casual glance out the window told her that she was on the fifth floor of Gotham General. She could see Bruce's Bentley sitting a couple rows back in the parking lot. The window was open, and slid upwards with a loud bang.
"What?" Bruce sat up in his chair and looked bleary eyed at the hospital bed. Seeing Victoria's bed empty, his eyes swiftly focused on the figure that was crouched in the window. It was Victoria.
"Thanks for the ride," Victoria's voice had changed as well as her appearance. It was now shadowed and more seductive than the light-hearted voice that had greeted him so often.
Bruce watched as Victoria gave him a flirtatious smile, flashing her canines, and jumped out the window. Horrified Bruce rushed to windowsill.
Five stories below, Victoria straightened to her full height, unscathed from her jump. She threw Bruce a playful wave over the shoulder and strode out to his Bentley. Pulling out the keys, she opened the car door and slid in the driver's seat. Acting as if the car was her own, she turned on the ignition and drove off with the car.
The Joker sat thinking to himself in the darkened living room of the Star Mansion. Pictures across the walls and mantel of the fireplace echoed memories of a life long passed. Once upon a time, he and Victoria had hoped to share the hugged mansion together as husband and wife. The mansion, however, was forgotten after the death of Jack Napier and when Victoria moved into the city.
Cobwebs and dust layered the photographs of Jack Napier, a serious and composed man of science, along side of a charismatic young woman with golden blonde hair and a smile that could melt even the coldest heart. He could always be himself around her, even if the scientific community might have frowned on the real Jack Napier.
"Mistah J?" a small voice called from the wide French doorway.
The Joker looked to see Harley leaning against the door jam in a red nightshirt. Her blonde hair pulled back in a single ponytail, porcelain face and black mask gone. Her blue eyes sparkled innocently over a shy smile. "Yes, Harley?"
"I was just wonderin' if you were feelin' okay?" she shuffled her feet anxiously.
"Just thinking, that's all…" the Joker adverted his gaze across the living room. Now, he remembered why he loved Harley so much. She and Victoria could have been twins. From the first time he saw her in Arkham, a space in his heart had filled a little.
Harley scanned the room, not wanting to leave her love alone in the dark. Catching sight of the photographs that lined the room, she commented, "Who do you think they were?"
Joker looked up. A slight frown had replaced his usual grin and sighed, "The Napiers."
"Oh," Harley nodded, still looking at the pictures. The name "Napier" had not registered in her mind. Maybe she had forgotten the Joker's real name. "They sure looked happy…"
Joker's frown deepened. His thoughts had wondered to two nights ago. Harley had only joined him that day after escaping Arkham and did not know about Victoria, or their past. "Go to bed, Harley…"
"Huh?" Harley looked disheartened but obeyed. "Goodnight, Puddin'," she whispered and disappeared from the door.
The Joker glimpsed at the small end table that sat next to his sheet- covered armchair. He picked up the picture frame that sat under the lamp. With a finger, he brushed the dust away from the glass and smiled faintly.
The picture was of Jack and Victoria sitting at a card table, Victoria was laughing as Jack tried to contain a poker face. Joker remembered the scene. He had tried to tech Victoria poker only to find that she had no poker face. "Guess I should stick to Blackjack," she had giggled after losing a small fortune of her vast inheritance. Luckily, he had wan most of it back with a few of his own tricks.
Inside, a pang of guilt struck the Joker's heart. The only woman who knew him inside out, or outside in, was probably lying in Gotham General in a comatose state for the rest of her life. He, on the other hand, was reduced to hiding in her father's abandon mansion, surrounded by the past.
A single tear grew and fell onto the glass frame. "I'm so sorry, Victoria…"